


and the years do swallow us whole

by MirrorDarkling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Lost Years, M/M, Marauders, Post-Hogwarts, Teen Wolf AU, Werewolves, winter wolfstar wank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorDarkling/pseuds/MirrorDarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of drabbles and one shots - wolfstar or marauders related, from the winter wolfstar wank on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas, 1995

**Author's Note:**

> All works can also be found on winterwolfstarwank.tumblr.com, if you search under mirrordarkling. :)  
> I'll also have to do some editing soon, I'm sure.

To be perfectly honest, it was better than Azkaban. Though there was something about Grimmauld Place that pressed in on him, weighed him down and crushed him. The halls had stopped being welcoming some time after his third year, and Sirius knew he wasn't meant to be back here. The house belonged to him now, he knew that. But his parent’s old home would forever be theirs and never his, not unless he was able to turn back time. Make it so that he would forever be the promised Black heir, the heir his mother and father expected him to be.

And while time travel was possible, that prospect was not, and Sirius was left to struggle under the weight of darkness the house seemed to ooze.

He remembered a life time of memories spent in this house – sleeping peacefully in his bed, learning and playing with his brother; the formal parties that required him to wear those itchy dress robes; the fights with his mother, the disappointed looks from his father. And finally, he remembered a bruise on his cheek and blood in his mouth from a split lip when he ran away and didn't come back. He remembered all the bad things in vivid detail – they hadn't been taken by the dementors because they weren't good memories. It made staying in this house even worse. Everything good that had happened in his life, he only remembered as if he was simply on the outside looking in.

One could argue that this was the perfect time to create new happy memories, and while Sirius would nod and agree with a pleasant smile to anyone who suggested such a thing, the moment their back was turned his lips would twist into a sneer and his eyes would darken. This Christmas was only made tolerable by the presence of the Weasley family, Harry, and Remus. Other members of the Order dropped by periodically, though Snape hadn't made an appearance today. Sirius counted that as a blessing. Christmas Eve dinner had been rich and filling, and Sirius had indulged himself, though his stomach felt queasy later on. (A diet of stale bread and rats was hardly called a balanced meal, and he had been living off it for nearly a year before staying with Remus and then moving back into Grimmauld Place. A queasy stomach a couple of months later was the worst of his problems, really.)

Christmas morning they exchanged presents, and Sirius continued his rendition of ‘God Rest ye Merry Hippogriff’ at the top of his lungs, which woke his mother’s portrait. Sirius couldn’t find it in himself to be perturbed by it at that moment. It was when the guests went off on their own to separate rooms of the house that Sirius sat down in one of the still dusty armchairs alone and got lost in his thoughts.

He remembered that last Christmas he had before Azkaban, the year of 1980. He hadn't been able to spend it physically with anybody – too busy on a mission for the Order, Dumbledore’s orders, you see, and Sirius had been rearing for some action even if it meant missing Christmas. He’d spent the day afterwards with them at least. He promised to make it up to them next Christmas, swore it even; he’d spoil Harry with so many gifts, they’d wish they hadn't made him promise to come over. There hadn’t been a Christmas of 1981, at least not together. James and Lily were in the cold, hard ground, Harry was wherever Dumbledore had placed him, Remus was alone and Sirius was in prison. Sirius hoped to Merlin, God, whatever god or greater force was out there that Peter Pettigrew was bleeding and hurt and tortured because of what he’d done.

“You alright?”

Sirius startled, pinning Remus with a look that had Remus wincing. “Stupid question, right. Sorry, Sirius.”

Sirius sighed and motioned towards the other chair. “Just say Happy Christmas and sit down already.”

Remus sat but he didn't say anything more, and Sirius propped his chin on his hand and stared at the tree. All the presents were gone, all the wrapping disposed of promptly by Molly. (They had been nice and civil with each other, for the kids, even though Sirius and her had gotten into a spat over…over something or another. He honestly can’t even remember anymore, doesn't want to bother remembering.)

“Sirius,” Remus said, once again drawing Sirius’s attention. Sirius regarded him with a raised eyebrow, expectant and patient. Remus looked…awkward and unsure of what to say, and Sirius sighed. What else was new, honestly? Twelve years of Azkaban and separation from each other had created so many scars, some only half healed. They weren't as plain to see as the one slashed across the bridge of Remus’s nose, but they still hurt.

“Honestly, Remus. Just say Happy Christmas.”

Remus let out a deep breath and gave a shaky smile, which Sirius returned. Yeah, there might be scars, but they were healing. They still had something – still had some things to be grateful for, especially on a cold Christmas morning.

Remus stood and cupped his jaw, fingers twitching. Sirius laid his own over them, stilling the twitch and easing Remus’s nerves with another smile – brighter and happier. He remembered the touch of Remus’s fingers against his jaw often, imagined it often during his years in prison. The press of Remus’s lips upon his brow; Sirius glanced up at that. He still didn't say ‘Happy Christmas’, cause it wasn't exactly happy. He would be happy outside of this house. He would be happy when this mess was over and his godson was safe. He’d be happy when Remus pressed a kiss to his lips again instead of just his brow. But it was getting there. They were content, at least.


	2. Christmas, 1978

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there’s a christmas tree standing in front of him, and despite the war, he’s spending christmas day with friends - and loved ones. under the read more.

Remus observed the tree from a distance, eyes slightly narrowed. The presence of a Christmas tree normally wouldn't have set off any alarms – it was, after all, Christmas morning, and a tree was a common occurrence – but they hadn't bought themselves a tree this year. There hadn't been any time, and Sirius hadn't cleared a space in his apartment for it in the first place. Remus wondered, for a moment, if perhaps it was a teacup transfigured into a tree. If that was the case, his favorite teacup was missing from the cupboard.  
He hoped for Sirius’s sake that he hadn't used his favorite teacup and transfigured it into a Christmas tree, no matter how touching the gesture.

A small chuckle drew his attention to the archway leading to the hallway, and Remus’s suspicions grew. “As lovely as it is, I have to ask where it came from.”

Sirius grinned, and a glint of mischief tinkled in his gray eyes. He seemed to be trying to hold back something; his shoulders shook with mirth, and after a moment his lips pressed tightly together. “I promise to return your cup safe and sound tomorrow,” he said after smothering back his laughter.

As he suspected. Still, the tree was quite handsome, multi-colored lights sparkling and ornaments nestled amongst the branches. Small flickering lights hovered amongst the green bristles and disappeared, only to reappear elsewhere. It was an impressive bit of magic, but Remus was more impressed by the amount of presents underneath the tree. The tag labeled James suggested the others were due over sometime, but for now it was just them.

Sirius had disappeared into the kitchen, and Remus watched him. He was bundled up in his favorite leather jacket already, and that was Remus’s scarf tied around his throat. Sirius had never been one of the cold, and he suspected that sometime during the morning the blanket draped over the back of the old, beat up couch would soon be draped over his shoulders instead. Sirius bustled around the kitchen preparing coffee, because he wouldn't truly be wake until he had caffeine in his system. There was an extra cup sitting next to his elbow, tea already seeping and the container of sugar already sitting there, waiting for Remus. With a grin, he joined Sirius in their silent routine of fixing drinks and taking their seats at the table.

Outside the window, the sky was gray and dreary. Remus studied it over the lip of his cup, sipping at tea that was still too bitter. Sirius slurped coffee that was more milk and sugar, humming Christmas tunes under his breath – lyrics like “God bless ye merry hippogriffs” slipping out every now and then. The moon in the air was calm, unlike the Christmas mornings spent in the dormitory at Hogwarts. Those days were over, however, and the reminder of the war still brewing continued to put a damper on all happy, joyous times. They tried very hard to forget it, and on the outside one would think they did a good job about it. Remus knew better. He knew his friends far too well to think they had completely forgotten. Sirius especially – who laughed, joked, pretended to brush it off like it was no big deal – had no way of hiding the hard look in his eyes.

Sirius seemed to have happier thoughts at the moment, however, as his eyes locked with Remus’s. “The fact that you haven’t scolded me for messing with your things is a good sign?”

Remus snorted and took another sip of his tea. “Perhaps I’m waiting for a more opportune moment.”

“Jumping on me before I had my coffee wasn't an opportune moment?”

“Too predictable,” Remus explained, taking his cup and Sirius’s to the sink. Sirius rose with a soft “ah” of amusement and breezed past him – smelling of soap, cinnamon, and wet dog (which, no matter how often he tried to get rid of the smell, it always lingered – perhaps on his jacket). Remus left the dishes for later and settled beside him on the couch. Sirius was stretched out across it, and yes, the blanket was tucked around him. He had a semi-pleased look about him. Remus pushed in beside him, jerking at the toes that suddenly began to burrow under his thighs, and relaxed. He reached out one hand to curl around Sirius’s thigh, and the muscles flexed under his grip.

“Happy Christmas, Remus,” Sirius drawled, saluting him.

Remus leaned against his shins and squeezed his leg, smiling. “Happy Christmas, Sirius,” he murmured back. They had a bit before James and Peter joined them – and maybe Lily, since she and Sirius were on better terms ever since she started dating James. A Happy Christmas, yes, one to be spent with friends and – Remus glanced at Sirius, who was still watching him with a large grin – loved ones. His gaze lingered, and Sirius’s grin grew.

“You’re not getting your presents early, Moony; James would kill me if I showed special treatment.”

“You didn't have to get me anything; you got me those brass scales for my birthday and –” he ignored Sirius laugh of ‘that was in March, Moony!’ because honestly – “and that was all I really needed.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “Moony, Moony, Moony, you’d think after nearly eight years of knowing me, you’d give up after a while.”

“You’d walk all over me,” Remus said flatly. Sirius snorted and shrugged, though he didn't deny it. “And probably buy me a house.”

He could practically see the idea pass across Sirius face, and Remus swatted at his dark head. Sirius ducked it with a laughed. “Only kidding, honestly!” he exclaimed, flailing.  
Remus sighed and dropped his forehead to Sirius’s knee, mumbling when Sirius’s hand dragged through his hair and massaged his scalp.

“Besides, Remus,” Sirius started, half amused and half serious. Remus tilted his head so he could see him. “Why would I need to buy you a house when you already have a place here?”

Sirius’s eyes never moved from his, and Remus softened even further under the look. It was true. There was even a drawer in Sirius’s room set aside for him, though it was hardly full. Some part of Remus was still hesitant to fill it – just in case. Just in case.

“How long do you think before James and Peter get here?” Sirius asked, his eyes darting to the hallway – and more than likely, his bedroom. Remus swatted him again.

“Git,” he laughed. “You ruined the moment.”

They had five minutes.


	3. 1979

Sirius would laugh, he thought, if he ever found out what he was planning. The cave whistled eerily, and Regulus had to thrust his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, though it was to no avail. The lake stretched out in front of him, and the boat waited for him to board, bobbing a bit in the water. He almost went back. He almost gave into weakness and returned to a life of living in absolute terror and horror. Almost. But Blacks do the things that hurt because they mattered, and if anything in life mattered – it was this.

Sirius would be proud, he hoped. He had always wanted his older brother to be proud of him. Had always wanted his parents to be proud of him. He could never have one or the other, but in this – in this he wanted his brother to think he’d done the right thing. Taking that first step towards the defeat of the Dark Lord. He could do this. He would do this.

Regulus climbed into the boat shakily, clutching hard at the sides until he knuckles went white. The locket was heavy in his robe pocket, a constant reminder of what he was about to do. He could almost feel the soul that resided within the real one yowling in protest. Sirius would be brave. He’d put on a smile and laugh, make a sarcastic comment that was sometimes sharp enough to hurt. Regulus had never learned to ignore his problems quite like Sirius had – would never be compared to Sirius. When people spoke about Regulus, it would be about his rise in power and then his fall. Regulus – the Death Eater who backed out at the last moment. The coward Black heir, the final hope and ray of light for the Black family, lost.

Regulus reached the small island and heaved himself out of the boat. Shaking and terrified, he did his duty. The potion was sweet going down, but seared his insides and raked across his mind, and by the time he finally reached the locket he was weeping. The fake locket was slipped into place and the potion replaced. In a haze, Regulus stumbled back. There, he thought. I finally did the right thing, Sirius. I hope you’re bloody happy. His foot hit the edge of a rock and he slipped. When he crashed into the water, he didn't even realize there were hands dragging him down.

Years later, the papers would publish a small column for the last two Black heirs, Regulus and Sirius. They wouldn't speak of all the good deeds.


	4. 1978

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a wonderful thank you to a wonderful lily on a role play. my replies were used to fuel this. xoxo

Lily Evans was not his first choice for a partner on Order missions, though he supposed their new found truce was enough for Dumbledore to assign them. It was supposed to be a simple job, in and out in no time; Lily would set up enchantments and other such protection spells while Sirius would handle setting up the evacuation route with the local residences. The muggles that lived there would certainly prove to be the hardest part about this mission, Sirius decided, and he hoped the squibs that lived among them would be able to convince their neighbors that he wasn’t completely touched in the head, and that Lily and his presence in their village did not spell out complete chaos. Lily had been clever enough to come up with a cover story as inspectors checking for gas leaks and other oddities, though Sirius had been more than ready to simply come right out and declare their homes unfit for living. In retrospect, the red head won that match when it came to cleverness. With that all said and done, they went their separate ways at last; they would cover more ground apart than together, which was a completely logical thing to do.

Sirius had just started explaining the finer details to an older squib, a gentleman with a hat Sirius had (mentally) declared as one of the most brilliant things he had ever seen (and was secretly planning on stealing it from the old chap, bless his old squib soul), when he saw the fires in the distant. Fear clamped down on him, and for a second the only thing that was passing through his mind was how pissed James would be if anything happened to Lily under Sirius’s watch. With a firm shake of his head, he ordered the older squib to gather up everyone he knew and direct them out and away from the village. “As quickly as possible, if you please,” Sirius said, pushing a younger woman away gently, craning his neck. As if he could see over rooftops to see the damage. He stopped a couple of confused muggles from heading in the wrong direction, directing them as quickly as possible.  
He found Lily soon enough, after facing down a Death Eater of his own. The masked man had the unfortunate coincidence of Apparating right in front of the young Black. Sirius ran straight into him, stumbled and lost his balance. He tucked himself into a roll and managed to come up on top, firing off a stunning spell before the broad shoulder Death Eater managed to gain his balance. Pleased by his already successful endeavors, Sirius pressed on. He lost his smile at the sight of Lily’s hand, but as they ran and dodged spells, he couldn’t keep the tiny grin from quirking up the corners of his mouth. A thrill seeker to the end, Sirius Black. He only hoped Lily didn’t catch a glimpse of his grin.  
Sirius ducked his head as glass went flying, throwing up a shield charm just before a wayward spell hit him in the chest. He slid up beside Lily, dragging the neck of his shirt over his nose and mouth, coughing harshly against the smoke. The Death Eaters that had arrived on scene at the village seemed to have a love of fire, and Sirius was only grateful that he hadn’t seen any muggle or squib remaining in village. So far, anyway.

They couldn’t stay in one spot for long. Sirius fired another spell over his shoulder, a wide smirk painted across his face before he managed to conceal it, and took off after Lily, gaining on her and quickly speeding ahead, leading her through a maze of alleyways and small spaces between houses and shops. His mind went back briefly to the old man with his brilliant hat, and Sirius wondered if he had managed to get out and alert the Ministry. The ruddy government normally wasn’t this slow to respond to an attack, even on a non-magical village. Sirius grit his teeth and flicked his wand at the brick wall behind them. The side of the building exploded outward, causing a small distraction and knocking back at least one Death Eater (that Sirius could see).

He gripped the wall to stop his forward momentum when Lily called out, and he stopped and watched her repair an old ladder that led to the rooftops of one shop. Panting from their sprint, Sirius clapped her on the back and started up the ladder, hauling himself over the small railing that and offered a hand up to his partner.  
“Reckon the rest of the Order’s heard of this, yet?” Sirius asked her, raising an eyebrow and brushing his hair out of his face. There was soot near his hair line, and a small burns near his temple from a curse he had barely been able to dodge. The attack had come earlier than expected, there had been no reason to send more than two out for a simple protection and enchantment erection job. Excited, pumped full of adrenaline, and slightly anxious to head back down and face his opponents face to face, Sirius peeked over the side of the roof, taking in the destroyed street below and the fire that was quickly spreading. It would have been pretty if it wasn’t so deadly.

There, in the distance, Sirius could make out more figures approaching. He pointed them out to Lily, who nodded, and they found their way across two rooftops before scaling down another ladder. Whether those approaching were Death Eater or Order, they needed to know in case the village folk hadn’t all made it out. They were just about to turn the corner when they were lay laid by three Death Eaters, and when Sirius dove behind a building to avoid the curses being fired at them, he watched as Lily took off in the opposite direction with two robed figures on her feels. He was just about to call out to her when his brother stepped forward.

Sirius stopped.

When he said he wanted to face his opponent face to face, he hadn’t quite meant this. This was a bit too personal and hit too close to home, even if the last time Regulus and Sirius had spoken civilly to each other had been Sirius’s last year at Hogwarts, even news arrived that Uncle Alphard had given his entire inheritance to Sirius. He should have expected it; he’d known exactly what role Walburga and Orion had been grooming Regulus for, especially after news that Bella had joined Voldemort. To actually come face to face with his brother in battle, though, was something entirely different.

“Well,” he drawled, straightening from his crouch and watching the wand gripped tightly in his brother’s hand carefully. “You’ve certainly done well for yourself. High up in the ranks there, Reg? Sitting tall and mighty next to Volde –”

“Don’t,” Regulus snarled. “You don’t deserve to say his name.”

Sirius barked out a laugh and shook his hair out of his eyes, raising his wand. “Can I still call you Reg?”

Something flickered in his brother’s eyes. His brother was probably wishing he still wore his Deat Eater mask – it would make this so much easier for him. Sirius wondered what happened to Regulus’s mask – probably lost somewhere. He didn’t see it laying on the ground anywhere, so he hadn’t recently taken it off. Had he been caught up in some fighting somewhere and lost it in the fray? There wasn’t much time to speculate, because Sirius’s teasing had Regulus holding up his wand and lunging forward. His first curse almost hit Sirius in the side, if it hadn’t been for the protective charm he threw up. Obviously, Regulus staying with Walburga and Orion had served him well in the dueling department. But Sirius had always liked dueling, and he was just as fast as Regulus.

“You lost that privilege,” Regulus snapped and came at him again. Sirius raised his wand and took up the offensive, and Regulus had to back peddle in order to defend himself. So evenly matched, they were, that went back and forth like this, until Sirius was sweating and panting and Regulus was doing the same.

“Is this what you wanted?” Regulus said, and Sirius believed in his very core that Regulus never met to show such weakness on the battle field. To actually hint that he wanted things differently – it would be a shame Regulus wouldn't want to burden. Blacks didn’t show weakness. It was why they always came off as too confident. Sirius had to bite back the taunt that threatened to bubble up: Does little Reggie miss me?

“I wanted you to pull your head out of your arse and see, for once in your life, Regulus,” Sirius yelled, whipping his wand rather violently and exploding the ground near Regulus’s feet so that he stumbled. His brother’s wand tip flashed, and Sirius felt himself tipping forward. He caught himself with one hand thrown out. Pain flashed, and he studied his bleeding palm for a second before he turned furious eyes on the young Death Eater. “I wanted you to see that I only wanted what was best for you, but you were too much of a pure blood supremacy pig to understand.”

Regulus made a noise that Sirius could not quite place, and aimed his wand again. Sirius rolled and scrambled to his feet, using the wall beside him as support.

“You left,” Regulus roared. “You left us; why would I want to follow anything you stood for if it meant abandoning your own blood?” Sirius bristled and shook, adrenaline pumping, and his heart pounding. What did Regulus know – the spoiled, well-loved child of the Black family. Regulus had always been weaker, it was Sirius who had to do the brave things, the things that hurt because they mattered. He didn't know anything. He didn't know that underneath everything, Sirius wanted to go back because he was a Black and Black blood ran through his veins. You did not give up fourteen years of learned core values at the drop of a hat.

Sirius shook his head and scanned his surroundings. Best to end this now and get back to Lily before things got too out of hand.

“Always the idiot, Regulus. Don’t come crying to me when you find yourself too deep to crawl out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself.” Sirius aimed at the corner of the brick building Regulus stood beside and snorted. “Deal with your own shite for once in your life, and maybe you’ll find out what being a Black really means.”

After his curse, the explosion that resulted had Sirius stumbling back, coughing. He took off running before Regulus had a chance to recover, tucking his wand away and making sure the coast was clear before transforming into Padfoot and letting four paws take him away from the fight.

The small, rational part of Padfoot’s mind that still belonged to Sirius – to a human – thought that, if Regulus had been capable of holding back his emotions, perhaps he would have finally beaten his elder brother. Emotions and family and tempers seemed to be the one true weakness when it came to the Black family. Some had too much, some had too little, and some had nothing at all. Unfortunately – or, perhaps fortunately, Sirius and Regulus had always suffered from a little too much. The man that had stood in front of him was very much like the boy who used to beg Sirius to play with him, the boy Sirius used to hide from his mother and father’s disapproval. The man that had stood in front of him was also very, very angry. Sirius decided it would be the best for the both of them if they didn’t have a second meeting, at least…not when standing on opposite sides.


	5. 1976

His cheek throbbed in time with the ticking of the clock that sat upon his bedside table. The intricate design of a serpent inlaid on the face seemed to taunt him. The sting of his cheek wasn’t a new sensation; the cuts were, though. Walburga Black wasn’t one to hesitate in smacking her children when she was displeased, but her rings – normally removed – had cut deep with the extra force she had applied behind her hit. Sirius had stared for a moment, shocked and furious, at his snarling mother’s face. He hadn’t backed down in the face of that, and trust me – that face is not pleasant. That had been it for Sirius. He’d marched right up to his room to pack his bag, intent on leaving that very night. There was little thought in his mind as to where he would go, but the obvious answer had presented itself in a picture he kept on his desk. The Marauders were his family now, and the Potters would probably be more than willing to take him in. There was a little doubt in his mind about that. They had always been much more supportive of him than his own family.

And that wasn’t the reason he was running away.

In all honesty, Sirius is surprised he hadn’t done this sooner. The constant bicker, the lectures from his father, the punishments from his mother. They never stepped over the line to become cruelty, but it was often (read: always) harsh. They were insane, his entire family, and Sirius wasn’t going to sit around and let them drag him down into their darkness. He had other plans for his life, better plans. Plans that didn’t involve getting smacked whenever he displeased his mother; plans that definitely didn’t involve joining some Dark Lord and reigning over muggleborns as a true pureblood prince should. Hah! Sirius snorted at the thought and tossed one of his robes in his trunk.

There were footsteps on the staircase, heading his way. Sirius tensed, listening. They were too loud for his mother, who always stressed that, in all things, one should be a lady, and you never stomped while walking. They were also too quick for his Father, who had at the current moment taken with some cold or flu or something this summer, and he walked with a pace that set Sirius’s teeth to grinding whenever they ventured out to Diagon Alley or the Ministry for business. It had to be Regulus coming up those stairs. For what purpose, Sirius wondered, glaring at his shut door as if his younger brother were already there. Did he plan on approaching Sirius? Sirius didn’t know what to say if he did. For a moment, Sirius felt an overwhelming amount of guilt wash over him. He was leaving his little brother to the wolves. The guilt only lasted a moment. Regulus has chosen his path, and Sirius had chosen his – there was little Sirius could do at the moment but leave him to it. Whatever Regulus had to say, it didn’t matter.

He turned back to his packing. Now, how in the bloody hell was he going to get to the Potters?

Regulus did knock, at least, and there wasn’t even a way to explain properly how little he wished to see his brother at that moment. Sirius didn’t know if it was through pure bitterness or sadness that he wished to slip out quietly into the night. To not look back…to not have his parents or his brother’s face be the last thing he sees when he finally leaves this bloody house. There wasn’t much he could do about it now. Sirius suppressed a sigh and flung one of his robes into his trunk. The knock sounded. Regulus’s voice – tentative and ever familiar – passed through the door. The young Black heir – or ex-Black heir, really – let him stay there for a moment. Let him work for it. Let him wait in torturous silence for his brother’s confirmation to enter. He was so disappointed in his brother. It was bad enough he sat by while their harpy of a mother had yelled and scolded and punished. To sit back while Walburga called Sirius a disgrace?

No. Just, no.

“Come in,” Sirius said finally, voice rough. He moved his jaw and touched his cheek gingerly, sighing. A bruise was already beginning to form, and his cheek was swelling slightly. Walburga Black was stronger than he had thought. He didn’t even wait to check if his brother had entered before he started rambling, “Come to beg me to stay?” Another shirt joined its counterpart in his trunk. Haphazardly piled there, Sirius took sweet – and immature – pleasure at not ‘pretending’ to be perfect in this house for the first bloody time. He’d put up an air for so long, it was good to admit finally to himself that he was nothing like his family. In fact, they wouldn’t be his family for much longer. “Don’t think that’ll get you much in this situation, Reggie. I’ve had about enough of this family, if you could even call it that.”

Another wave of guilt and perhaps a bit of disgust hit him again, and Sirius nearly staggered under the weight. He paused in his packing and turned to face his brother, perching on the end of his bed. It was wrong to taunt his brother so, but he didn’t intend on taking his words back. Charmingly cruel, as always, Sirius Black. The teen pressed his lips together and waited. Might as well see what his brother had to say. It would probably be the last time they had a civil conversation.

Regulus’s face was drawn and pinched, though Sirius wasn’t sure why he was so glum. He was finally going to get the attention he wanted, finally getting the chance to be the Black heir – the role he was better suited to than Sirius. “You’re leaving?” Regulus asked.

“An astute observation,” Sirius snorted, slamming his trunk shut. “As I just said I was, didn’t I?”

He watched Regulus’s eyes flicker around his room, a small, satisfied grin growing on his lips as he watched his brother’s horror rise. The motorcycle and bikini posters were still hung up on his wall, and Sirius had every intention of leaving it there, along with some Gryffindor things and copies of pictures.

“You won’t reconsider?” Regulus asked, and his younger brother suddenly seemed so much smaller than he had been just seconds before. Sirius hunched over and cleared his throat. There was no use remembering all the times they’d had as children. No use thinking that here he was, Regulus’s older brother, and he was leaving him behind.

“Stop,” Sirius said, angrily. “Just don’t.”

And suddenly the look in his brother’s eyes was very hard, and Sirius straightened to his full height, not backing down from the challenge.

“You’ll disgrace your family,” Regulus hissed. Sirius watched his hands for a moment, how they gripped at the tail of his shirt and twisted and pulled. His brother was frantic. Hah! Disgrace the family, when they had already made a name for themselves as insane and powerful, only gaining respect through fear. Sirius almost sneered. “You’ll disgrace yourself.”

That…that stopped Sirius, and the thought of disgracing himself was so entertaining that he barked out a laugh in surprise. His brother looked taken aback, like he honestly thought that argument would make his older brother see sense. Sirius disgrace himself by leaving – the very idea was so insane, so illogical. If anything, Sirius knew leaving would be the best damn idea he’d had in life. Second to making friends with James, Remus, and Peter.

“You know what, Reg,” Sirius said slowly, once he had his laughter under control. “I’m going to go, and I’ll carry my “disgrace” with dignity and my head held high. This family will pretend it never happened, and will curse my name behind closed doors.” Sirius spread his hands and shrugged. He had a good idea how his mother would react to his leaving. There may be another hole in the family tree and a couple – or more – galleons less in his personal vault at Gringotts, but honestly, he was through with this family anyway.

“If you would just stay, try to see reason, Sirius,” Regulus snapped. Sirius almost started laughing again.

He pinned his brother with a very stern look and raised one eyebrow. “You weren’t always this much of a git.” He paused for a moment. “Or stupid. This is long time coming.”  
For once, Regulus didn’t say anything, though Sirius didn’t expect him to anyway. Sirius locked his trunk and dragged it off the bed. It hit the ground with a loud ‘thump!’, and he made for the door.

“If you ever some sense, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you around Hogwarts, Regulus Black,” he tossed over his shoulder in farewell. His stomach twisted – nerves, guilt? He couldn’t afford to linger too much on it, though. He needed out. The noises caused by him dragging his trunk echoed through the house, and he could see Kreacher disappear around the corner to inform Walburga. Sirius chanced a look over his shoulder and watched his brother slam the door to his room behind him.


	6. You Are Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sirius is mistaken as a member of the pack by the alphas, and they decide to deliver a message to remus. not proof read, oops.

Besides the fact that his best friend has been turned into a werewolf, Sirius thinks this year is going swimmingly. James has finally got the girl, (somewhat) mastered his werewolf powers, and has officially joined Remus’s pack. Yes – things are good. Except Sirius is surrounded by three alphas in the middle of the forest.

What was it that Peter had told him? Take care? Yeah, that was never going to happen.

Sirius is all smiles though, trying to seem relaxed and carefree despite the pounding of his heart. The alpha just to his left his curling and uncurling their fingers, sharp claws already extended. He would ask them what they’re doing here, but he already knows. They’re after Remus for something, some alpha business. Remus had been somewhat vague on the descriptions. (He doesn’t want to worry them, but Sirius thinks that went out of the window a long time ago. He’s beyond worried at the moment.)

“Can I help you?” Sirius asks.

“Perhaps,” one of the alphas says. He was a towering mass of muscle and Sirius thought he could probably bench press a car even before becoming a werewolf. (If he was ever human, that is – cause you know, there’s this thing called born werewolves.) “Though I have to wonder what Lupin wants with a human in his pack.”

Which isn’t all together correct, Sirius thinks, since he hasn’t been accepted into the pack. Just tags along with James whenever he heads over for pack business, and occasionally he buddies up with Remus. Remus is mostly quiet but accepting of his presence, which Sirius thinks is a step up from when Remus would totally ignore him.

“Technically,” Sirius drawls, but he’s cut off by the Alpha to his right snapping and snarling.

“Whatever the reason, we have a message for Lupin.”

“Of course; how original,” Sirius heaves a long suffering sigh because really? This truly was a frighten the delivery boy cliché. “Very well, I’ll be sure to pass on the message. What do you want me to say?”

A chuckle echoes around him as all three Alphas grin, and Sirius tenses up in preparation to run. “There won’t be a need for words,” one says, and the one to his left lunges.  
Sirius has always been quick on his feet, and he manages to tuck and roll away from the now snarling werewolf. He gets his feet underneath him quickly and runs, weaving through the trees back to the small house Lupin now calls home. He doesn’t get very far before something snags his wrist and tugs, and he’s sent sprawling across mud and leaves, twisting and shouting to get away from whatever’s caught him. The Alpha that pins him isn’t transformed, but the other two approach silently, fangs extended and eyes red. Sirius growls and wiggles, planting a foot on the werewolf’s stomach and pushing with all his strength.

He has a bit of help from another who comes jumping out from behind the trees, barreling into the wolf ontop of him while two others jump onto the backs of the other Alphas. Sirius gets to his feet, only slipping in the mud once, and moves away from the snarling mass of rolling werewolves fighting.

Sirius can tell it’s Remus who knocked the werewolf off of him, and he’s fully transformed and going for the Alpha’s throat. James and Peter are taking on the others, though one Alpha is already down, clinging to his shoulder. A dislocated shoulder, perhaps? There’s blood as well, as far as Sirius can tell, running in ringlets down muscle and dripping from his fingers. James and Peter are working as a team; Sirius is so damn proud of them, he’ll have to remember to treat them later. (Doggy treat jokes, hah! He’ll have to remember that once they’re done here.)

Sirius hears a crack and a whine, and the Alpha Remus had been fighting stumbles back. Remus howls and suddenly they’re taking off. Remus has him by the wrist and is pulling him away from the small clearing, and when Sirius peeks over his shoulder he can see James and Peter following. James flashes a smirk at him, which Sirius returns, then he focuses on keeping up with a sprinting werewolf without falling on his face.

Sirius isn’t certain whether or not they won, but they certainly get away without injury. Well, despite the gash in Peter’s arm, and the scratches on Remus’s back and stomach that are already healing. James had blood on his shirt, too, but Sirius can’t tell if it’s his mate’s or one someone else’s blood. James is smirking through, running his hand through his hair like he always does, so he must be okay. Sirius pats Remus’s shoulder once they stop and barks out a laugh.

“Thanks for the save there, mate,” he says, and Remus sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re not hurt? What did they want?” He’s watching Sirius with a look in his eye so…so unknown that Sirius shifts (awkwardly?!) and shrugs.

“A message,” Sirius says, dropping the teasing lint in his voice.

James steps up next to him and crosses his arms. “So they’re basically saying they’re going to attack anyone involved with you, Remus.”

Remus nods and motions for Peter, who he whispers instructions that Sirius can’t make out – but James obviously can, because he nods in what seems to be approval. After Peter disappears back into the trees, Remus turns once again to Sirius.

“So I guess this means I’m pack, eh?” Sirius asks, and while he meant it to be a joke, there’s almost a hopeful undertone to the question. He doesn’t want to be pushed out of this, not like he was pushed out of his own family. He wants to be involved with planning, keeping them safe, fighting. He wants to be involved with Remus. He’d be stupid to not notice how the Alpha acts when they’re alone together. There is a lot of touching, just small ones – a hand on his back, finger tips brushing against his arm. And he’s always watching. Remus watches everyone in his pack – he has to make sure they’re happy, improving, safe. But the look in his amber eyes are always different when they turn on Sirius. Sirius will admit he’s been making the same look whenever he looks at Remus.

But just as quickly as he’ll turn his sex eyes upon him, he’ll become the quiet and reserved Remus once again. Sirius will have to do something about that soon.

“Don’t come out here alone anymore, Sirius,” Remus says, and James knocks his shoulder against Sirius’s. Sirius knocks him back. “We’ll get the pack together tomorrow afternoon to discuss what happened. Do you need a ride back?” Remus has his hands stuck deep in his pockets, and he’s not exactly looking at Sirius. He raises his eyebrow at that.

“Nah, I’ll hitch a ride with James.”

Remus nods, but he hesitates. “Do you have a moment?”

He smirks. “Yeah.”

James looks between the two of them and snorts, tossing ‘I’ll just be over here” over his shoulder as he begins to walk away. Sirius can just barely make out the house in the distance, so that’s probably where he’s heading. Sirius drapes an arm over Remus’s shoulders and laughs.

“Exciting night, though I could have done without the chasing and snarling mass of werewolf on my chest. Thanks for the save, though, mate. Just in time.”

Remus’s expression looks pinched, and the Alpha sighs and places one hand on the small of Sirius’s back. Sirius can feel his fingers clutching at the fabric of his leather jacket – now covered in mud, bloody werewolves, that was going to be a bitch to clean.

“We’re going to have to work on your werewolf skills,” Remus says dryly, startling a laugh out of Sirius. There’s that sense of humor Remus rarely displays! He’d almost forgotten it existed.

“I’m completely innocent,” Sirius says, and quickly adds: “this time” when Remus tilts his head and gives him that look. “Honestly, Moony, they were the ones who thought I was pack and decided to attack me.”

Remus clears his throat. “You are pack.”

Sirius stops and thinks about that for a moment, but the only thing he can come up with is, “Oh.” And if that isn’t a pleasant thought. Sirius presses himself firmly against Remus’s side, feeling the heat that rolls off him in waves despite the chill in the air – werewolves always run hot – and lets his arm drop from Remus’s shoulders to his waist. His grip tightens, and Remus’s hand relaxes and slips under his shirt to brush the skin of Sirius’s back.

“Now you’re stuck with me,” Sirius teases.

Remus makes a show of looking absolutely put off by the very idea, but the roll of his eyes gives him away. “I’ll have to find a way to make do, I suppose,” he teases back. Sirius wonders if he has any idea, really, if Remus understands just how long he’s going to be stuck with him.


	7. Lost Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No regrets. 1978-ish. Distraction sex is the best kind of sex, in Sirius's opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a thank you to a wonderful remus lupin on a role play for this thing of beauty. that role play was f u n.  
> a bit rough - will need to clean up once i have more time. until then, enjoy.

Sirius could tell from the moment Remus entered that there was something wrong. The door shut softly with a click, and Sirius listened with a cocked ear as Remus locked and bolted the door before sighing and turning the corner to the living room. Sirius propped himself up on his elbow and observed him over the back of the couch.

“Rough day?” Sirius asked.

Remus made a face and raked his fingers through his hair. There were several silver strands already beginning to appear near his forehead, and Sirius pushed himself up fully and hummed a bit to get him to answer.

“Just unsuccessful,” Remus admitted.

After several unsuccessful days of job hunting, Sirius could see why he had become so glum. Remus had promise enough; he was extremely smart and hard working, well liked because of his personality, even if he was a bit quiet. There had been several times when the owner or manager had been just about to give him a job – but the werewolf bit…Remus was required by law to tell them about his condition. There wasn’t much he could do after that. The witch or wizard would recoil and send him packing. Sirius didn’t see how his becoming a wolf once a month reflected upon his ability to do the job. He grew fur and went a bit mad once a month, but he returned to normal in the morning – ready and willing to go to work if needed, even if a bit tired. This last job…Remus had been so eager to have it.

Sirius didn’t know he could be so angry about something that didn’t affect him, but Remus being pushed aside despite his qualifications because of something he had no control over was just wrong. Remus wasn’t too vocal about it. He practically shouldered the burden with a sad smile and a shrug. ‘There’s not much I can do about it.’ he’d say. Or, ‘No use getting angry, Sirius.’

But Sirius had been angry, and had ranted over it several times over the last few months. It had been a year since they’d graduated, and Remus needed a job. Sirius was more than happy to have him stay at his little apartment for free, but Remus had his pride and insisted on giving him money for rent. Sirius had joked that there were other things that Remus could pay him with, but Remus hadn’t found that very funny at all. (After a while, Sirius admitted that yes, that hadn’t been the smartest thing to say.)  
Yes, Sirius had done angry, but Remus had just looked so down trodden that he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry, just disappointed.

“Come here, Rem,” he said, his tone a bit harsher than he intended. Remus made a face at the tone. “It didn’t go well, I take it.”

“Close,” Remus sighed, unwinding the scarf from around his neck. “It all seemed really promising. I was talking to one of the employees who worked there, and he was explaining the basics of what would be expected if I was brought on, when the owner walked in and began to ask all these questions.”

He didn’t need to know what questions had been brought up. Sirius began to think fast. He needed a distraction. A quick one. Sirius stood and snagged Remus’s wrist as he walked by, and the look in his eyes must have given him away because Remus pinned him with a flat look.

“You’re not going to distract me,” Remus mumbled. Sirius suspected he had plans to hide away in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a good book, though he hardly brought himself to move away. Sirius grinned.

“Remus,” he said in a sing-song voice. “I’m going to distract you now.” Sirius reached out to wrap his arm around Remus’s waist, pulling him more flush against his side, nosing at his brown hair with his nose. With his other hand, he went for the scarf, pulling it gently from his fingers and dropping it to the side table. “Is it working?”

The fingers resting on Remus’s hips began to inch up the edges of his shirt, his thumb rubbing circles against the exposed skin.

“No,” Remus replied, but he was tilting his chin and pressing a kiss to the side of Sirius’s mouth.

He was up for anywhere, as long as it wasn’t the floor. The rug burns hadn’t been a problem during the act but had burned and irritated the ever loving hell out of him after the fact. He drew Remus down and pressed their lips together harder, hand curling around the back of Remus’s neck. Remus threw out his hands to catch himself on the arm of the couch, and they sunk down onto the cushion slowly. He licked into Remus’s mouth, and Remus submitted easily. With a pleased hum (which earned him a grumble in return from Remus, from deep in his chest), Sirius went about divesting Remus of his cardigan and shirt, making sure to take his time on the buttons. There would be plenty of time for rushed sex; now was a time to distract Remus, and the best way Sirius knew was to be extremely thorough.

Remus pulled back, panting, then trailed nips and kisses down Sirius’s jaw line until he reached the tender skin of his neck and began to suck there greedily, alternating between soft kisses and bites, pulling the skin into his mouth. Sirius’s head arched back, and all the while he smirked, hands trailing down Remus’s belly, feeling the muscles flex beneath his finger tips.

Remus’s one hand gripped tightly at Sirius’s hip, the other still supporting him on the couch. His fingers tug into his flesh, right at the junction where his thigh met hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the inside of his thigh, causing goosebumps to rise up on Sirius’s arms. He was always so sensitive down there, and he squirmed to press his hips closer to Remus’s body heat. It was always give and take with the two of them – sex was never a one person job, and they both enjoyed each other’s bodies so much. The taste and feel, the slide of skin on skin and the friction. Sirius let his legs fall apart, and Remus settled, snuggling between the V of his legs.

Remus had finished with his neck and licked delicately at the mark he had made before returning to claim Sirius’s lips in a kiss. Settling more of his body weight on Sirius freed Remus’s other hand, and he cupped Sirius’s jaw tenderly. Sometimes these moments stole Sirius’s breath. Tender left him boneless and willing, bending under Remus’s capable hands. It seemed this was one of those times, and Sirius sighed, gave a little chuckle, and hooked one leg around Remus’s hips and pulled him closer before relaxing.

Where would you have me, he meant, and the look on Remus’s face was pleased and excited. The hardship of the day was seemingly forgotten with the reminder that there was still something Remus had – a willing lover to come home to at the end of the day.

Sex with Remus was so many different things. When it was closer to the full moon, Remus was always grouchy and sensitive to the touch, and he liked to take things fast and leave as many marks as possible. Other times, Sirius could step up and have his fun, and while both were great – brilliant, really, in Sirius’s book – he liked giving into Remus. Plus, Sirius got sex on a regular basis. Fantastic sex. Near full moon sex. Sirius had to suppress a shudder of anticipation at the thought and slid his hand further up Remus’s bare side, ducking his head to capture Remus’s lips in a hard kiss.

“The sooner I get you off – the sooner I can go back to brooding,” Remus said after a moment or two of snogging, and Sirius had to restart his brain in order to fully understand. And bloody hell, the bugger was teasing him. “Any complaints?”

That hadn’t exactly been his plan. When Sirius had set out with the intention to find and distract Remus, he had intended to distract him for the rest of the day. No matter. This would not put a damper in Sirius’s plan. With a wicked grin, Sirius let his hands drag up and down Remus’s side slowly, splaying on his lower back and up his shoulder blades as he pressed their chests together.

“Complaints? Why yes, I have some complaints,” Sirius mumbled. He kicked his pants away idly (after realizing Remus had been playing with the button for quite some time and had already managed to pull them down a bit) and bit back a grunt as Remus’s hand wandered. “See, there’s this thing called a bed, and I was planning on spending a long while in it. With you. And sex of course.” He punctuated this statement with a roll of his hips. He even threw in his best puppy eyes, though his eyes were so dark, pupils blown wide with desire, that the look almost seemed comical. Still, his point had gotten across through other means. Sirius was positive of that.

He knew how to work people. He would so much as call it manipulation, but tomato, tomatoe. Sirius knew how to be charming, suave; he knew the exact words to say to get what he wanted. It came with the territory of being a Black. Or a Pureblood. There had always been talk that Purebloods were more advanced, more likeable – even more attractive. Sirius wasn’t too sure about that last bit, as he had seen plenty of ugly Purebloods in his lifetime. It was one reason he had gotten so much attention in school. It hadn’t been unwanted, but it had gone mostly ignored unless he wanted to take advantage of something.

Now – he wasn’t intending on bending Remus to his will. He wasn’t going to force Remus into doing anything he didn’t want to do – if the hard length pressing against his inner thigh had anything to say about it, force wasn’t even in the picture. But Sirius was sure as hell going to do whatever he could to keep them in that bed. Speaking of which…  
“But I suppose the couch will do just fine.”

Remus rolled his eyes, and Sirius knew Remus was catching onto his plan. “You’re a git,” he said, fondly. He shifted atop him.

“If I had a knut for every time I heard someone say that,” he said happily. He arched and captured the werewolf’s lips again, his tongue flicking out to tease along the corner of his mouth. He pulled back and stretched, both hands now going above his head, hooking one of his legs around the back of Remus’s knee. “My plan worked, though,” he rumbled, voice husky. “Fifty points to Sirius Black for being the world’s best distraction.” Sirius licked a finger and made an invisible notch in the air.

“Shut up,” Remus laughed, shaking his head and tracing a finger over Sirius’s cheek. “You know you’ve always been good at that. Since Hogwarts. Why should now be any different?” Sirius had to shudder at the look in his eyes – despite the softness of his tone, Remus’s pupils were blown wide, a honey color that shone almost amber.

Sirius moved a hand to ruck Remus’s shirt far up and off his chest and made an inquiring sound in his throat. “So is this going to be fast and hot, or should I prepare myself for torture in the form of you taking your time?” Remus groaned and buried his nose in Sirius’s throat, and Sirius laughed.


End file.
